The Hat Strikes Back
by Rabid Lawn Gnome
Summary: Woe is the docile hat. R&R and I'll be grateful as hell. Wholesome criticism welcome! Not like you'll give it... and I can't get over the fact that they don't have a character category for the Hat.


Disclaimer: Yeah, well. I don't own the hat. I wish I owned the hat.

Sooo, I was bored. Having fun with these crazy and random skits, actually. This is what happened after the Golden Trio was sorted, bless their souls. Always thought the first book needed a side-plot involving the hat. Notice that a took a line from Breakfast Club for the hat. Random, but fun!

**The Hat Strikes Back**

_Woe is the Docile Hat_

"Danielle Marywood!" 

Flexing my fingers against the hard stone of the wall, I set my jaw and began to move to the front of the crowd. "'Cuse me... Pardon... Oh just bloody move! ...Perve!... thanks... Could y-?"

I yelped suddenly, and loudly, and the crowd was suddenly, well, gone, and I was left standing at the front of the Great Hall. Closing my eyes, I put a thin-lipped smile on my face and tried not to scream in frustration; embarassment. Snickers were erupting from various places around the cavernous room - and with them came shushing, mind - and there was even some downright laughter. For which table, I had no doubts. Hands clenching into fists at my sides (mentally, I was pummeling myself with all the force in the world), I forced myself to walk up to the stool which sat a few paces away. Professor Gonagoll watched me approach from her lashes with the most casually disapproving look I'd ever seen. Swallowing, I turned, let her place the tattered hat on my head, then sat. The stool tipped almost instantly, and I fought to regain balance. The snickers grew, along with the hushing.

"Hurry up, Hat." I muttered shrilly, under my breath. "My patience is thin." My eyes flew open as the hat broke into rancious laughter.

"**I wouldn't be short with the hat.**"

For some strange reason, it was then that my patience errupted, and my annoyance flared. I'd been having a very bad week, what with homesickness and all, and this really was just to icing to my cake. Despite the fact that it was only a hat that would feel the brunt of my POed-ness, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a great sense of liberation. "Ever heard of a shredder, hat?" At this point I realized that what had once been words were now only thoughts, though the hat still seemed to hear me.

The hat's snickers only grew.

"**I wouldn't threaten the hat, ch-**"

"Will you just bloody sort me! I'm sorry to be short, as you say, but it's been a particularly bad week for me."

The hat snorted. **"And you don't think hats have bad weeks? Do you think I'm just some kind of untouchable ...hat peasant? Tell me, I'm curious. Because I've been having a bad week since some fat tailor picked up thread and a bloody needle, some thousand-odd years ago."**

I must admit, I was taking aback slightly by the outburst from the accessory. He did seem like such a harmless hat. Not that I've known anything but harmless hats. Dorment and silent hats, to be exact. I frowned. What a strange thing that I should be talking with a hat in the first place.

"I don't think our troubles are alike, hat." I reasoned, softening my voice. "Human females..." I shrugged uncomfortably. "Nevermind."

I paused, and my feeling of liberation was lost to a tide of sudden empathy for the hat, and curiousity. "So what's been bothering you?"

The hat was silent for a moment. "**Look at all those other hats," **he said finally, malice heavy in his... hat-voice. Obediently (or by his force), my head swivelled to survey the sea of pointy hats below me.

"Yep, hard to miss them."

**"I had dreams once... of being a hat like one of them. Dreams of fullfilling my life upon someone's head, living through the ups and down of hatlife."**

My hardness was lost, and my face softened visably. "Hat..."

**"But no, I have to sit on the head of the same bloody twitching chit every year, going Slytherin! Hufflepuff! Gryffindor! That other one! Slytherpuff! Gryffinclaw! Ravenllama! And every now and then some flaming-headed moron comes along, and I'm supposed to go 'Ahh, we have a _Weas_ley', using a high-pitched voice on the first syllable that makes me look like a dunce. Bloody Weasley's." **

The last part was a sullen mutter, but I heard it none the less, as it's hard to miss anything in mind-talk. "There has to be perks, though..." I reasoned, fiddling with the edge of my plain brown cloak absently as I spoke. I had the feeling that this shrink business would not be short. "...right?"

Once again, the hat snorted rather unsettlingly. **"And I'm a green coat!" **Ooook.

"Ooook. I think you should be talking to someone else about your... problems, hat. A hat shrink... or something. The table gets jealous easily, and I wouldn't want to ruin what we have..." I'd meant the last part as a lame attempt at a joke, but the hat's voice was dead-low when he spoke next.

"**Serious?" **

Squeezing my eyes shut, and trying not to imagine myself strangling a hat, I forced myself to be patient. This was one bloody infuriating peice of material. "No, hat. Could you sort me, and let me eat, now?" The hat seemed to stiffen on my head. "Oh god no," I whispered, sensing my folly a moment too early.

"**Slytherin!"**

My eyes windened, and I said it (aloud) before I could stop myself; "Bitch!"

"**I warned you not to be short with the hat."**

"Honestly, I have a shredder in my bag. I'd wisely revise your placement if I were you..."

"...bloody second-hand lice-bag."

"**Oh no... you didn't."**

Strangely, I felt myself getting excited. "Did."

The hat tensed as if to jump from my head. "Alright!" I spoke in my mind. "Enough!" The hat hesitated, then relaxed on my head. "Please," I said, trying to calm myself. "Just sort me..."

Grumbling, the hat reluctantly screamed "**Hufflepuff!" **before opening his little mind-mouth thingy to berate me. But I was too quick for him. In one fluid motion, I screamed "BITCH!" loudly, tore off the hat, and ran from the Hall laughing. "**I'll get you yet!" **the hat was screaming after me. "**I'll get youu!"**

McGonagoll's POV

I wasn't sure what to do, watching the first year running from the Hat in manical laughter, then listening with a deepening frown as the hat screamed after her. "...Yes. Dean Thomas." Always knew that hat was trouble.


End file.
